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Saturday, 15 April 2017

Three Great Plot Twists In Three Great Video Games

While there has always
been a large number of video games that have been entirely focused on
action and spectacle, or simply on pure entertaining, it would also be
fair to say that there has also always been video games that have
attempted to explore the possibility of telling engaging stories within
this interactive medium.

It's an aspect of our strange little hobby that might not be
appreciated by those who do not share it, of course. But, for those of
us who have devoted too many hours to playing video games, there are
bound to be any number of video games that have impressed us with the
quality of its writing, or its cast of characters, or the basic
structure of its plot. There may even be examples of video games which
affected those who played them in a much more profound way than simply
providing a few hours of entertainment.

Sure, you could make the argument that none of this would make
necessarily allow video games to be classified as 'art' (although, even
on this point, it might be possible to come up with a list of games that
would suggest otherwise) - but, that's hardly the point. As a medium
for story-telling, video games have always had the same potential as
films, books, and television.

Take, for example, that classic story-telling device known as the
plot-twist – that sudden moment of revelation intended to catch you by
surprise, and to completely change the feel of the story. In books and
film, a well-done plot-twist can become the main talking point for fans.
And, in the world of video games, there are examples that are just as
good as anything you can find in any other medium - three of which I
fully intend to blatantly spoil below, so consider yourselves warned.

Bioshock

Bioshock
begins with a plane-crash, and an innocent man who finds himself stuck
in a strange underwater city – or, at least that is how it is made to
appear at first. As it happens, the game's silent protagonist is
actually much more important to the fate of the mysterious city of
Rapture than the player was given any reason to suspect. The protagonist
is actually a key component of a long-term plan to wrest control of the
city away from its eccentric creator – Andrew Ryan. Not only is the
protagonist actually Andrew Ryan's illegitimate son (a fact which allows
him to make use of some of Rapture's more outlandish technology – which
had been designed to only function for Ryan, himself. An early hint
which slipped by many players), but he had also been kidnapped as a
child in order to be used against his father. Subjected to experimental
conditional, the child was turned into little more than a slave for
Ryan's enemies – his conditioning activated by the use of the simple
phrase "would you kindly..."

The moment of reveal comes at the same time as the inevitable
confrontation with Andrew Ryan himself. It is a tense and unsettling
scene where complete control is taken from the player. And, where you
can do little more than watch while you are informed that you are really
nothing more than a programmed slave, and then forced to watch while
Ryan uses the phrase against you to force you to kill him, in a
round-about form of suicide. All while maintaining that same
first-person point of view.

Almost as interesting as the moment, itself, as the fact that it it
then became possible to go back over those early hours of game-play, in
order to pick out the various uses of the phrase - particularly, with
the way in which these early clues were rather cleverly hidden behind
some fairly standard game-play practices. At one point fairly early on,
for example, the game's silent protagonist is asked to lower his weapon
for what seems like purely narrative purposes, so that a bit of
exposition can be given.

Since games have a long-running tradition of taking control away from
the player, in moments like this, it seemed like a perfectly ordinary
moment. It was not until much later that the player was able to realise
that the way in which the request was made was actually a very important
plot-point. It was a moment of realisation that still counts as one of
my favourite moments in a life-time of playing video games.

It's really just a bit of a shame that the game continued for a few
more hours after this point. Nothing that took place in the game's final
act was quite able to match that moment.

Silent Hill 2

In the Silent Hill
series, there has always been a fair amount of built up lore concerning
the town of Silent Hill, and exactly how and why it became the source
of horrific nightmares that we all know and love. In the second game of
the series, though, none of that really matters.

The first and third game in the original trilogy may have concerned
themselves solely with the mysterious nature of that small town - but,
the second seemed to stand on its own, as a sort of side-plot. In Silent Hill 2,
that small American town is simply cast as a terrifying place where
horrifying things happen to the people foolish enough to visit.
Honestly, as far as this game is concerned, that's really all you need
to know - and, that might be a part of the reason why Silent Hill 2 has always been my favourite game in the franchise.

Silent Hill 2 begins with its protagonist, James Sunderland,
receiving a letter from his wife, Mary, letting him know that she is
waiting for him in Silent Hill. The only problem, as we quickly learn,
is that Mary is dead - and, she has been for some time. With no way of
knowing what he is about to be dragged into, James decides to make the
trip, anyway. His goal is simple enough - to find out where the letter
came from. But, once he arrives, things start to go bad for James
Sunderland. Soon enough, he finds himself trapped and isolated - and,
surrounded by horrific creatures who all seem determined to kill him.

The twist, here, is not so much a single moment of revelation as it
is a gradual process of discovery - but, that doesn't make it any less
meaningful. Throughout the game, James meets others who have also found
themselves pulled into this same, surreal, nightmare - each of whom is
clearly deeply affected by the guilt that they carry of some past
action. The clear implication is that, for them, Silent Hell has come to
represent a very personal hell - and, that they are only there because
they deserve to be (or, at least, they believe that they do). But, what
about James? He is only in Silent Hill to uncover the mystery behind the
letter from his deceased wife. James is entirely innocent, isn't he?

Well, obviously, the answer to that question is 'no'.

As the player eventually learns, Mary's death wasn't quite due to
natural causes. She was terminally ill, with no real hope of recovery -
and, she was definitely suffering. But, it wasn't actually the illness
that claimed her life, in the end. Instead, it was James, himself, who
took her life. It may have been an act of assisted suicide, and
something that the two had ultimately agreed on, but the act still had a
deep enough impact on James that it triggered an emotional breakdown -
ultimately leading to him suppressing the memory, entirely. So, in the
end, the player learns that James is pulled into this surreal nightmare
for the same reason that everyone else is - because he believes that he
deserves to suffer, and because the supernatural force at work in this
quiet little town is happy to oblige.

It is really the perfect reveal for a surprisingly sombre and
emotional game. The fact that it all works so well in spite of some very
average voice acting is really pretty remarkable. Just as remarkable as
the fact that, even today, the game that has probably had the deepest
emotional impact on me is a Survival Horror game.

Dragon Age 2

It may have been a few
years, now, but this one may still be a little controversial. After all,
there were, at the time, many people who disliked the second game in
the Dragon Age franchise, for a variety of reasons - none of
which are really worth getting into, here (though, for what it's worth, I
have always agreed with many of the criticisms that have been leveled
at this game - I just disagreed on the extent to which those issues
spoiled the game, as a whole).

The most compelling reason why some disliked this game actually is
relevant, here - and, that concerns the way in which the game's
protagonist, Hawke, was so often pushed into a more reactive role
throughout the game. Cast as little more than a refugee trying to
survive, and built a new life, in a foreign city, it often felt as
though Hawke was often struggling just to keep up with the various
plot-lines taking place around him (or, her) - to the extent that she
(or, he) occasionally felt much more like a side characters in other
people's stories, than the protagonist of his (or, her) own.

It had been a fair point to make, of course - but, whether it
actually counted as a flaw with the game is another matter, entirely.
Some players were very put off by this aspect of the game, while others
found the break away from a typical 'protagonist-focused' story to be
rather refreshing - and, I was definitely in the latter group. Arguably,
there was nowhere that this lack of focus on the protagonist was more
apparent than in the game's final moments

In the wold of Dragon Age, it is a well-known fact that any
magic-user is at particular risk of demonic possession, and that a mage
possessed by a demon becomes an Abomination – a creature so feared that
it is often the source of horror stories. It is for this reason that it
is commonly accepted that mages need to be kept separate and protected,
under the care of the Templars. However, in the final section of the
game, the growing tension between the mages of Kirkwall and their
Templar guardians seems to be heading directly toward open conflict.

In the role of Hawke, you quickly find yourself stuck right in the
middle of this escalating conflict - and, in fact, trying to manage this
increasingly chaotic situation forms much of the game's final act.
Depending on your preferences, you can openly support one faction over
the other - or, you can do as I did, and constantly try to push for some
sort of peaceful resolution.

If that is what you were working for, then it may have even seemed
like your efforts were about to be rewarded during the game's final
moments, with a tense stand-off between the leaders of the two opposed
factions - until, of course, Anders (a mage, and your companion
throughout much of the game) steps forward and takes the decision out of
your hands. Anders sees peaceful resolution as little more than an
inevitable return to Templar oppression - and, he doesn't want that. So,
instead, he takes the opportunity to launch a surprise attack that
makes compromise impossible. In spite of my best efforts, up until that
point, outright war broke out between the two factions - all thanks to
the last minute betrayal of one of my closest companions. From that
point on, the situation devolved into complete chaos.

It was a sudden twist that caught me completely by surprise, and
which left me feeling stunned and, I have to admit, genuinely angry.
But, I wasn't actually angry at the game for not letting me have things
the way that I wanted them to be, and I wasn't angry at the writers for
creating such a frustrating situation. Instead, I was angry at Anders, a
fictional character, for ruining what my version of Hawke, another
fictional character, had been trying to achieve. I was fully immersed in
the moment in a way that I rarely have been - and, the fact that the
game was able to catch me by surprise, to that extent, struck me as
genuinely impressive.

Obviously, that entire ending sequence would feel very different if
you had been playing a character who openly supported one faction, or
the other - but, it was that first play-through which had the biggest
impact.